Surrender
by Cerulean.Phoenix7
Summary: She'd never been one to let her guard down, but around Peter Bishop she'd happily oblige. Sequel to 'Sweetheart'.


Surrender

A/N: This is the sequel to my Valentine's fic 'Sweetheart' (I would suggest that you read that first before you read this one.) And after watching '6B' I couldn't leave this unaddressed.

And a thanks goes out to wjobsessed for reading this over for me :)

Disclaimer: If I owned Fringe...well that certainly sounds nice. But I don't, the only thing I own are the plot bunnies and they take up a lot of room.

* * *

The temperature in the room had gone from normal to stifling in matter of seconds.

And the space between her and Peter was so close and hot she wondered how there wasn't steam.

She licked her lips slowly; they felt like parchment in the heat.

Peter watched her, his blue eyes slightly hooded as he reached a hand up to brush her cheek.

"Olivia," he whispered.

When his hand grazed her cheek she leaned against it, running her lips against his slightly calloused palm. She could smell a hint of chocolate.

She let his hand fall before taking another step towards him and placing both hands on his chest.

"Peter...," she tried to speak, but the words felt jumbled and lazy like scotch on her tongue. She couldn't meet his eyes. She could feel the walls building in her mind, brick after blinding brick. If she surrendered now, she wasn't sure if she could ever rebuild them.

With a gentle finger under her chin he brought her eyes to his, shockingly blue against his skin.

"I'm here sweetheart," he whispered.

It was then that she realised that with Peter, there would be no reason for the walls to even exist.

She pressed her lips against his, tentatively at first but then with more pressure. Moments later it was fevered and passionate as she ran her tongue along his lower lip. He parted his lips for her and moaned slightly. Her one hand had wandered from his chest to the back of his neck where it tangled with Peter's short hair as she kissed him.

When they parted for air she saw that one button undone at the collar of his shirt again.

She wanted to rip the shirt open at that moment.

She grabbed the first button and nearly tore it from his shirt as she struggled to get him out of his clothes.

"'Livia," he said with surprise, but before he could protest any further she kissed him again.

She loosened the last of the buttons and swiftly pulled the shirt off him.

She was very grateful at that moment that he wasn't wearing an undershirt.

His bare chest rose in a manner ripe with desire and his eyes were hooded to cerulean shrouds that delved into her. He moved to take off her blazer and cast it into a far corner of the room, totally forgotten.

She made quick work of his jeans while he shucked off her blouse and when the last few pieces of clothing were cast aside he picked her up and pressed her against the wall. But she pushed him away; she wanted more than just a quick fuck against the wall.

She moved to the desk and leaned against it, giving him a _very_ blatant invitation.

He closed the space between them in an instant, pressing her against the desk and sweeping a container of pens off it simultaneously.

It was a small mercy that the pens were the only thing on the desk at the time.

He ran his hands over her bare skin; the sensation of his skin against hers was so deliciously intoxicating that it prickled the flesh on her arms.

He trailed his lips over her body, peppering her neck in kisses before giving the rest of her body the same attention.

But she was greedy and her reserve of patience had already run dry.

"Peter," she hissed in wary tone.

He planted a soft kiss on her shoulder: "All in good time sweetheart."

She didn't give a damn about good time, and to make her want clear she reached down between them and pulled him closer to her. He yelped in surprise.

"Livia," he warned.

"It's now or never Bishop, take your pick."

He chose now.

Olivia felt as if her entire world had ignited into colour, the sensation when he started induced a series of sharp blues and vivid greens, but as he increased his pace bright oranges and reds bloomed in her vision.

"Peter...please," she whispered and he went faster.

She could see white bleeding onto the edges of her vision, coiling and twirling into a mural of burning pleasure.

She wondered for an instant if in her delirium, she had traced wings on his back with her fingers and he had carried them to heaven.

The angelic white of the mural brightened and then exploded, sending her careening over the edge of pleasure's precipice. She buried her face into Peter's shoulder to quiet her scream as he tumbled over the edge behind her. He pressed his lips into her hair to silence his scream until they stilled and the air around them was calmer than a smooth lake.

He pushed himself off her slightly so she could get off of the desk and she watched as his skin was hit by a few rays of sunlight that snuck in through the blinds. The way it speckled his skin made it seem to shimmer like gold.

She got up from the desk and kissed him lightly on the lips.

Then she tried to find where her clothes had gone.

"Hey 'Livia," he whispered, "Think you could help me find my pants?"

* * *

From outside, Walter looked back over to the office where he could see two figures moving about the office; handing what looked like articles of clothing to each other.

_Works every time,_ he thought.

* * *

Please review and let me know what you think :)


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